Hot Rod Hell
by Quetzal1
Summary: Rodimus Prime isn't a happy 'bot, but you can't really blame him. He does that enough on his own.


Author's note: I borrowed the title for this from a song of the same name by the Casket Draggers. I heard it a while back on a college radio station and thought it was fitting for this idea I had, though it's got nothing to do with Transformers (which belongs to Hasbro and Takara but not me.)

Hot Rod Hell  
By: Quetzal1

The field was empty, save for the rows and rows of markers, and that was the way he liked it. He told no one he came here. That would be stupid because it was the one place he could get a little solitude and clear his processors. The new leader of the Autobots slowly made his way down to an area that was most familiar to him. The markers appeared the same from a distance, tall, gold colored and triangular. It wasn't until one got close that the script engraved into them became legible. They were cenotaphs for the last of those lost in the Great War. No bodies rested here, only memories and that was more than enough. These would be the last. There were memorials on two planets plus the mausoleum in space. The living needed to move on.

Shortly he reached his destination and stopped to regard the smooth metal surface although he knew what it said, having memorized it several visits ago. He glimpsed his reflection, blurred and wavering. Those same words could often be used to describe his feelings much of the time. He was larger than before and the flame-like designs gracing his paint made him appear more formidable than they had back when he was just Hot Rod. Now he was Rodimus Prime and he couldn't get used to the idea no matter how hard he tried.

It would possibly help if he didn't hang out at marker for his predecessor so much. But being here was a small comfort in an odd way. Optimus Prime, now _there_ was leader. It hurt to think about him, but Rodimus had been doing it on a daily basis. Despite reassurances from his friends, he continued to feel guilty and would likely carry that guilt until the day he deactivated.

xxx

Optimus had Megatron dead in his sights, but what he didn't see was the weapon that had fallen down among the debris that resulted from the combat between the titans. He couldn't know that Megatron inched closer and closer to it while pretending to beg for mercy. No, and all it would take for total disaster was a mere nanosecond of distraction. Well, he'd certainly provided that, hadn't he? Instead of simply shouting a warning about the blaster or maybe shooting it, Hot Rod had taken the heroic route. That was what he did after all. Yeah, right. All he had achieved was to stupidly blunder into getting himself used as a shield.

He remembered the way it felt to be trapped in the Decepticon's hold. Even gravely wounded, he remained strong enough to subdue the young Autobot. And it happened so fast! Hot Rod had been surprised to the point that he didn't think to struggle. Had he seriously thought he was going to stop the despot that easily? When Megatron went for the blaster, he was sure that it was going to be used to blow out his cranial chamber, but he was wrong. It would have been better for everyone if that had been what happened. Instead Optimus Prime was dealt a mortal injury. And it was all his fault.

Not a single Autobot _said_ a word against him but they absolutely must have been _thinking _it. Probably still were and always would. Things had gotten very chaotic afterwards, to say the least, so there wasn't time to dwell on it, but now…. And that wasn't the end.

There was the matter of telling Elita One what had happened. Ultra Magnus had volunteered as had Jazz, but Rodimus felt it was his job. She knew the overall outcome soon after it happened, of course. They all had. Their former leader had been one of many lost in that particular fight. But she didn't know any real details. Later, once things had calmed down, she started asking questions. He gave her the full story and then apologized and asked her forgiveness (not that he felt deserving of it in any way.) The femme was calm and told him he had nothing to apologize or be forgiven for. He had only been trying to do what he thought was right. Primus! It would have been easier if she had gotten angry. But he didn't deserve easy, either. They had each gone on with their lives but she wasn't her old self after that, as one would expect. Who was? She kept busy and didn't shy away from any of her duties, but gone was the sunny, outgoing personality. Still, though, she always said hello to him when their paths crossed. He would rather she told him to slag off with an appropriate gesture to go with it.

xxx

Now when he needed peace, he came here. It was calming. These days he seldom ever had a minute to himself, not with someone always coming to him with one problem or another. If it wasn't a problem it was a question regarding the governing or infrastructure of the planet. He didn't know anything about any of that. He'd never been interested. Now he was paying for that casual disdain for governmental affairs. When he wasn't actively engaged in some type of business, he had to play catch up by learning about all the things he'd ignored. He was glad that the war was over, but peace was a lot more work than he'd imagined.

Naturally, there were skirmishes with the Decepticons, but no one really worried about them that much, not like the old days. If Galvatron were normal it would be a different matter, but whatever had happened to him when Rodimus threw him out into space after their combat within Unicron fixed that. He had no clue about what caused the insanity. He didn't think it was damage from their battle, but clearly, whatever it was, he was considered responsible for that too. One only had to look at the way Cyclonus glared at him whenever Galvatron did something odd during a fight. The crimson optics followed the crazed ruler with an expression of regret and then shifted to burn into Rodimus's own pale blue ones with such accusatory rage that sometimes the Autobot thought he could almost hear what the Decepticon second in command was thinking. _You are to blame for this, and oh how I will make you suffer for it when I get the chance!_

He didn't truly fear any Decepticon, and he had seen firsthand what kind of conditions they were living in, but it would be utter stupidity not to keep an optic on them. Chaar was a worthless, burned out mess and energon was in extremely short supply. He didn't know where they got the tiny bit they had to survive on. Presumably they stole it from somewhere or the materials to make it themselves, but he had far bigger concerns than a little petty theft. Quintessons, for one. No one seemed to know much about them, but they were troublemakers of the highest order. And who knew what else was out there waiting?

Once all of Cybertron's defenses were back up, Quintessons wouldn't be such a threat. Off the planet was another matter. No one was there to see it, but that particular thought made him appear yet more tired for a moment or two. As if Cybertron and its many problems wasn't enough, there was also Earth to be worried about. He liked humans and for the most part the relationship between the two planets was a good one, but it remained his job to remedy any problems caused by Decepticons. Widespread destruction and a terrified populace resulting from their battles always had to be dealt with. It was frustrating to be expected to defend against and repel attackers without causing any collateral damage. Thank goodness Spike was the Earth ambassador to Cybertron. He knew better than most of his kind what they were up against and was great at diffusing any tensions. Not only that but the Autobot would miss Daniel if he weren't around. But then he rarely saw him anymore. The small human hung around with Wheelie and Arcee a lot, as well he should because Rodimus sure didn't have much opportunity for anything fun anymore. He used to be all about having a good time, but that was over too.

Often it felt like the simplest of pleasures were denied him. Back on Earth he would go out and let off some steam by cruising the highways at impossible speeds. Now along with his robot form, his alt mode had changed. Instead of a sleek car he was a large truck. Yes, he was more powerful that way, but he wasn't nearly as nimble and fast. And he definitely wasn't anonymous anymore. Even if he had the capacity for speed and maneuverability that he used to, he would have to deny the urge for reckless amusement and behave appropriately as befit his position. He hated having to continuously mind his manners so carefully.

His internal clock told him he'd been away from his office for half an hour now. Better get back before someone came looking for him. The longer his visits here remained secret, the better.

The Autobot leader walked as though weighted down by the planet he governed. He hated to go back inside and trudge his way through more boring analysis of the planet's code of laws. But it was necessary. Everyone expected him to make all the hard decisions and have the right answers and he wanted no part of either. He felt like such a fraud. Was the matrix infallible? Could they be totally certain it hadn't make a mistake? Its selection of him had to be in error. He didn't want the job and he wasn't ready for it. He would never _become_ ready for it. Why, out of all the living Autobots would it choose him? As he pondered the unknowable, Rodimus felt the heaviness of the Matrix of Leadership within him. He was awed by the responsibility of possessing it while also resenting the burden. As if sensing his turmoil and trying to reassure him, energy pulsed outward from it in a warm wave.

"You have to be wrong," he muttered. The matrix did nothing but continue to send out the occasional pulse.

Great, now he was talking to it. That was another thing he had to work on. He seemed to have a gift for saying the most insensitive things at the worst moment. Before becoming the new Prime, he was known for his wisecracking manner, but now his humor sounded bitter and mean. But then again, that was sort of the way he felt much of the time.

Why couldn't the Matrix have worked for Ultra Magnus? He was far more suited to lead. Almost anyone was better suited. But be that as it may, he was stuck with the job and he'd better just resign himself to that fact. It could be worse. At least he had Magnus for guidance and Kup also. Now and then he sought out Jazz for advice too, although he was pretty hard to find. They were always willing to share what they knew and try to help. Rodimus wished again that more of the older Autobots were still around. Frag, if he were going to long for the impossible he might as well go all the way and wish to have Optimus back. They would have a capable leader and he could go back to being plain old Hot Rod. Yeah, right. As if that would ever happen.


End file.
